


Close your eyes and hold out your hand

by Laramie



Series: Things you said [3]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, M/M, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompted by Abby rather a long time ago. I said I'd fill it eventually!<br/>Apologies for any typos; I had to do it all on my phone.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Close your eyes and hold out your hand

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Abby rather a long time ago. I said I'd fill it eventually!  
> Apologies for any typos; I had to do it all on my phone.

  **June 1923**

"Did you know anyone who died in the war?" Jimmy asked, using his flat cap as a fan while he and Thomas ambled home from the pictures one hot afternoon.

"Yes."

"I did," Jimmy went on, when it seemed that Thomas was not going to elaborate.

Thomas glanced at Jimmy with the deep empathy in his eyes that Jimmy found almost disturbing in its understanding. It made him feel strange: skittish, and wanting to give Thomas a shove for thinking that he could creep into Jimmy's loneliness and dissolve it, bit by bit. "I know," Thomas said. "Your father, yes?"

"Yeah. Who did you know?"

"No one as close as a father." Thomas's expression was guarded, like he didn't want to talk about it. Bully for him, because Jimmy wanted to know. If Thomas _really_  didn't want to talk about something, he'd say testily: 'We're not discussing this.' He had before; Jimmy liked asking him questions, and didn't always know when to stop.

"Who, though?" Jimmy elbowed him as they walked along the parched lane. "Y'have to tell me."

"Have to, do I?" Thomas replied drily, amusement pulling at his mouth.

"Yep," Jimmy affirmed, holding Thomas's eyes to show he was serious.

Thomas's gaze dropped away. He always looked away first. "It were one of the soldiers. I told you I worked in the cottage hospital."

It was barely a question, but Jimmy nodded anyway.

"Gas blindness. Nightmares. He... didn't really cope. He tried really hard, but Clarkson was sendin' 'im away and... I suppose he didn't want to be away from Sybil and... and me."

"Were you lovers?"

"Who, me and Sybil?" Thomas didn't look as though he was joking.

Jimmy screwed his face up at him. "No, you dolt. You and this soldier."

Thomas cast his eyes down in front of him again, looking oddly bashful. "No."

"But you wanted to be," Jimmy deduced.

"I hoped..." Thomas trailed off vaguely. It was unclear from his tone whether he'd had any particular ending to the sentence in mind.

"So what were you... doin' with him?" Thomas's brow began to furrow, so Jimmy added hastily: "Medically, like."

"Ah... Sybil and I were helpin' him adapt to doin' stuff without looking. Like walkin'. Shavin'. That kind of thing."

He went quiet, and Jimmy tried to imagine his day without being able to see. He would probably cope with getting dressed, and shaving, though making his bed to Carson's standards might be a challenge, and it would all surely take him much longer than usual. He would bet he could get across his bedroom and down the corridor by using the walls, but then there was the endless turn of the servants' stairs, always with the fear of not being able to see the handrail if he slipped. It must be even worse outside, having to trust that the ground under one's feet was flat and firm.

"What's it like - walkin' blind? What were ya doing to help him?"

Thomas considered him and slowed to a halt. Jimmy stopped, too. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

Jimmy stowed his hat back on his head. "Got a present for me, Santa Claus?" he teased, even as he did as he was told.

Thomas's overwarm hand closed over Jimmy's.

Jimmy jumped, his eyes flying open in surprise.

"I'm just showin' you." Jimmy wasnt sure if Thomas's tone was exasperated or defensive.

"Go on, then," Jimmy agreed, making his voice sound easy. His heart was still thumping, which was silly for such a little shock. He shut his eyes again and waited for Thomas to take his hand. This time, Jimmy barely twitched.

"Now, you hold onto my shoulder," Thomas went on, guiding Jimmy's hand to the right place. Jimmy could feel how hot he was under his waistcoat. He was standing to Jimmy's left, and slightly ahead. "Ready?"

"What for?"

"You just follow my lead." Thomas stepped forwards, making Jimmy tighten his grip and stumble to catch up. Thomas went slowly at first, letting Jimmy get used to stepping out into oblivion.

Jimmy was surprised to find that he wasn't nervous at all. He trusted Thomas not to lead him into a rabbit hole, and it was fairly easy to respond to the changes in pressure under his palm as Thomas shifted their course to avoid some obstacle Jimmy's couldn't see. Soon, they were up to normal speed.

"What was this soldier's name?"

"Lieutenant Courtenay." Thomas's voice sounded curiously distant without the context of sight.

"And that's how you think of him, is it?" Jimmy asked sceptically. He opened his eyes to see a slight blush creeping up the back of Thomas's neck. Thomas was still facing forwards, so he didn't know that Jimmy was looking at him. "What's his first name?"

"Edward."

"How long did you know him for?"

Thomas muttered something that sounded like: "Not long enough."

Jimmy studied the edge of Thomas's ear. It looked to be getting sunburned. It would be sore tomorrow; Jimmy's stomach twisted in sympathy. He closed his eyes to ask: "Was he handsome?"

The movement of Thomas's shoulder implied that Thomas was looking at him. Jimmy concentrated on the amber-pink beneath his eyelids and wondered what expression Thomas was wearing.

It was only a brief moment before Thomas was focusing ahead of himself again; likely he didn't want to walk them off the path.  
Jimmy felt his hand being lifted off Thomas's shoulder, forcibly returning him to the land of the seeing. He trotted to catch up with Thomas and pressed: "Well, was he?"

"We're not discussing this," Thomas said flatly.

"Oh, go on. It's not scandalous or nothin'. I mean, I can know _you're_  handsome without it meanin' anythin', right?" Possibly he should not have said that last bit.

"Alright, yes, I thought so. Even with the scars. He -"

Jimmy held his breath, waiting.

"Now stop asking me questions," Thomas snapped. Jimmy sighed. He had upset Thomas now, it looked like. He reached up to squeeze Thomas's shoulder, but at the last moment he turned it into a solid pat. "Thanks for showin' me." He smiled hopefully.

"You're welcome," Thomas mumbled.

"We make a good team," Jimmy added bracingly.

This earned him a smile. "We do, rather."

"Best team ever. We should enter the blind-walking Olympics."

"There's no such thing." And now Thomas was shaking his head, a fond expression on his face.

"There you are, then," Jimmy said eagerly. "We'll invent it, and then win it, and that's how we'll make our fortunes."

"Dreamer."

"Stuffy old butler."

"Hey!"

"Then we can go off and see the world and drink champagne and dance with pretty girls - uh - and handsome lads. Right?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Right," he agreed.


End file.
